


Up Against The Wall

by dailyroutineat221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry John, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, not so angry John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:43:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyroutineat221B/pseuds/dailyroutineat221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck, Sherlock, sometimes you just…” John gulped and Sherlock jerked himself against him.</p>
<p>“I what, John?” Sherlock asked, looking startled.</p>
<p>“Don’t know…don’t know,” John whispered.</p>
<p>“Tell me,” Sherlock demanded.</p>
<p>“You make me…” he trailed off.</p>
<p>“ Make you what?”</p>
<p>“Want to touch you…” John breathed out, “Feel you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up Against The Wall

John entered the flat with several heavy bags in his hands, sweating from the effort of carrying them all the way from the store. Sherlock was facing the window and playing his violin.

“You saw me coming with those,” John groused as he dropped the bags on the floor, “You could have helped me, Sherlock.”

Sherlock lowered his violin and turned to face John. He was a little out of breath, flustered and disheveled. Sherlock smiled a little.

“I was busy,” he said as he approached John with a forced cynical smile and lowered himself to reach some of the bags John had dropped.

“I’m sure,” John replied sarcastically, picking up the rest of the bags and following Sherlock to the kitchen.

They put the bags on the counter. While Sherlock was sneaking a peak at the contents of them, John spotted the very familiar outfit of his friend.

“Sherlock, what are you doing wearing my shirt?”

“I was playing violin until you disturbed me,” he answered blandly.

“Very funny!” John snapped, slapping Sherlock’s hands away from the bags.

“You asked!” Sherlock said while backing away from John.

“You’re crossing the line here! I’ve told you to keep away from my room!” John griped as he unconsciously stalked Sherlock.

“I wasn’t in your room, John,” Sherlock said, turning his back to John and walking to the living room.

“Of course you were. I’ve told you millions of times to keep out of there! I don’t want you sticking your nose in my personal things!” John complained, following Sherlock.

“John, I wasn’t in your room. And I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed about your room. There’s nothing there but DVD’s and magazines of naked people. Boring.”

“No—WHAT?—you-I-” John blushed, “You were in my room!”

“Yes, but not today.”

John was having a hard time trying to keep calm; he was embarrassed and angry at Sherlock.

“Sherlock, give my shirt back!” he said, trying to look cool.

“Mrs. Hudson gave me this shirt,” Sherlock said defensively.

“What? GIVE IT BACK!” John attacked Sherlock, “NOW!”

John was pulling at the hem of the shirt, trying to rip it off of Sherlock’s body.

“John!” Sherlock called, trying to get away from his friend, “Stop it!”

John grabbed a handful of fabric and pulled, sending the three first buttons skittering across the room. Sherlock grabbed one of John’s arms and held it, but John was a soldier. With his free hand, John gave a tug and ripped the shirt in two, exposing Sherlock.

Sherlock looked a little surprised at the result. Letting go of John’s arm he backed some feet away from the doctor, his back hitting the wall. John was standing in front of him with a remnant of what had been his shirt in his hand.

“I am…” John began, but his eyes landed on Sherlock’s half naked figure and gulped, “sorry.”

John was in shock at his reaction. Sherlock always made him mad and often made him question his sanity, but he had never gotten physical before. He was lost in thought when he heard Sherlock talking to him.

“It’s okay, John, I was waiting for the day you lost control.”

John laughed sarcastically.

“Lost control? You saw nothing. If I had lost my control you’d probably be crying on the floor by now.”

“You know, John, I might hit you back,” Sherlock smiled.

“You?” John laughed, “I don’t think so.”

John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock unconsciously. Sherlock put his hands softly on John’s hip, silently asking him to move so he could pass. Instead of passing as John had expected, he grabbed a hold of John and in a heartbeat, he had John pinned against the wall. Sherlock held his arm across John’s chest, keeping him from getting away.

“What were you just saying?” Sherlock asked cockily.

John tried to move. Sherlock’s leg moved to immobilize him and the grip of his friend’s arm tightened.

“Get off of me, Sherlock,” John growled as he shoved against Sherlock.

They were close. Sherlock’s arms and legs tangled with John’s. As John struggled, Sherlock had to use his entire body to contain the doctor. Sherlock said nothing. He just stared at John, completely serious.

“Alright, Sherlock, I got it,” John’s voice cracked, “Let me go now.”

Their faces were mere inches away. John could feel Sherlock’s warm breath and couldn’t look away from his intense gaze. John ran out of words for a moment and tried to mumble something. He looked to his right and back to Sherlock. His heart skipped a beat as Sherlock’s lips brushed very light at his. He spoke warily.

“What are you doing, Sh-Sherlock?”

“You know what I’m doing,” Sherlock answered slowly.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“No, John,” Sherlock answered uncertainly.

As they talked, their lips were brushing, sending shivers through both of their bodies. John had never felt in so much danger as in that moment. They kept like that, lips resting against one another, just staring into each other eyes. John was on the edge of trying to do something, but then, there was Sherlock and he hesitated; instead he spoke.

“Fuck, Sherlock, sometimes you just…” John gulped and Sherlock jerked himself against him.

“I what, John?” Sherlock asked, looking startled.

“Don’t know…don’t know,” John whispered.

“Tell me,” Sherlock demanded.

“You make me…” he trailed off.

“ Make you what?”

“Want to touch you…” John breathed out, “Feel you.”

“How?”

“Badly.”

“No…” Sherlock said in frustration, looking blankly at the wall behind John’s head.

“Fuck you. Don’t do this to me now, Sherlock.”

“No,” he repeated, looking back into John’s eyes, “Say it.”

“I want to touch you,” John said firmly.

“I want to feel…” Sherlock said vacillating and quickly, “I need…”

John had never in his life seen something as beautiful as that moment, as those words from Sherlock’s lips. He took the time to appreciate that. He blinked several times, letting the words sync with the image of the man in front of him. He had lost the meaning of absurd, natural and normal at that point. Sherlock let go of John and both of them breathed deeply. John felt Sherlock’s shaking hands drop to his and he let the warm touch sink into his skin and his mind. He knew it was just Sherlock’s hands on his hands, but it felt different.

Sherlock brought John’s hands to his own chest and John felt Sherlock’s heart beating faster. He ran his hands over Sherlock’s chest, slowly taking the heat that was exuding from him. Sherlock’s eyes were fighting to close, but he kept them open, focusing on John’s wrists. John ran his hands solidly over Sherlock’s shoulders, dropping down to his arms and again to his hands. He held them, his thumb circling soothingly over the back of Sherlock’s hand. He looked up to his friend and for a moment, he couldn’t move. Sherlock looked serene, not even a shadow of resistance in his features. John dropped his hands and quickly glanced at Sherlock’s face and in the instant their eyes met, he couldn’t take them away.

John closed the small distance between them and distributed light kisses over Sherlock’s shoulders, making his way to his chest and letting the kisses get deeper. John’s hands were lazily tracing circles down to Sherlock’s waist.

“John…it’s quite overwhelming.”

“Do you want me to stop?” John asked hesitantly.

“Yes…. And no,” Sherlock said weakly.

“Don’t hold back,” John said, not even sure what he meant, but Sherlock seemed to understand and relaxed a little more.

John’s hands slipped to Sherlock’s hips, caressing the skin lightly. He felt Sherlock shivering, even though he managed to keep his composure. John smiled and kneeled in front of Sherlock. Sherlocks eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip, trying to contain whatever emotion he was having at that moment.

“John, please…no…” Sherlock’s voice was trembling.

“Don’t worry,” John whispered, unbuckling Sherlock’s trousers, “Don’t you trust me?”

“No.” Sherlock said uncertainly, “I—”

John stood quickly and grabbed Sherlock’s shoulders forcefully, effectively silencing him. He stared into Sherlock’s eyes.

“It’s not about you, goddammit! This…this, right now, is about me, right? Just relax. Okay?” John said forcefully.

Sherlock nodded silently and John knelt again, kissing Sherlock’s stomach while unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers. He pulled them down until they puddle at Sherlock’s feet. John took the time to appreciate Sherlock’s muscular legs and thighs. He ran his hands over the muscles, kissing very lightly and carefully up. When he reached the band of Sherlock’s pants, he looked up at his friend. He softened his expression with a small, shy smile, but it was enough reassurance for Sherlock. He relaxed, exhaling a deep breath. John pulled the pants off slowly, kissing every inch of the exposed skin of his hip, until they finally joined Sherlock’s trousers on the floor. John broke the physical contact with Sherlock’s body. He kept in place, looking, sizing, admiring the view of Sherlock’s completely naked body in front of him. So exposed, so natural, so needed.

John slid one hand to Sherlock’s hipbone, resting it there. John looked at Sherlock’s cock and felt the reality of the situation hit him. He’d seen it before, but in other situations and context. Before, he had only recognized Sherlock’s member as a penis, but now he saw it as a sexual object, truly, a cock, which was now fully erect, the veins dark against the alabaster skin. John bit his lip and unconsciously curled his nails into Sherlock’s hip. He up looked at Sherlock who was staring intensely down at him and John said:

“I want to touch you.”

Sherlock closed his eyes immediately and didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. As soon as John finished saying those words, Sherlock’s cock twitched and pre cum began to ooze from it. John swallowed hard at seeing that. He slid his shaking hand to close around the hot flesh of Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock’s knees weakened and John kissed his thigh before he started moving his hand up and down gently, eliciting soft whimpers from Sherlock. He moved closer to Sherlock’s body, half hugging his friend’s waist, giving himself a better angle to move his hand. Sherlock moaned at the contact and the change in angle. John was watching closely while his hand stroked Sherlock’s cock, his breath hitting the soft skin. He was supporting Sherlock’s weight as much as he was supporting himself and he could feel Sherlock shuddering and breathing out of sync. He knew Sherlock wasn’t going last much longer. He thumbed his shaft, applying pressure gradually. Sherlock lifted his arms and grabbed at his own hair and pulled it, biting his bottom lip. He tried in vain to contain the moan that slipped from his throat. John watched Sherlock’s come streaming through his hands.

He hugged Sherlock’s waist, burying his face in Sherlock’s side. He could feel Sherlock regaining himself, his breathing dropping back to normal. Sherlock’s hand dropped to John’s shoulder, silently asking John to move so he could lower himself to the floor. Sherlock sat on the floor and pulled John to him, cuddling him between his legs and wrapping John’s body with his long arms, his naked chest brushing at John’s fully clothed back.

Sherlock slipped his hands beneath John’s jumper and caressed his belly. John rested his head in Sherlock’s shoulder and sighed heavily. Sherlock noticed John’s erection and slowly brought his hands to the band of John’s trousers. He unbuttoned them before John stopped him, holding their hands together.

“John, let me do something for you,” Sherlock whispered.

“No, it’s ok. I’m fine, there’s no need…”

Sherlock lowered his head a little, his lips almost touching John’s earlobe as he said in a low tone:

“I want to. I want to see you. I need to see you, John.” Sherlock said as he unzipped and pushed John’s trousers as far as he could from that position, “Let me touch you, please.”

He brushed his fingertips over John’s shaft through the fabric of his pants.

John’s breath was coming out with difficulty. Sherlock pulled the waistband of his pants down until his cock was completely free. John closed his eyes and anticipated the touch, but it never came. Instead, Sherlock pulled at his jumper, bringing it up over his head and tugging it off, tossing it to the ground. John snuggled himself back against Sherlock, now his bare back touching Sherlock’s broader chest. Sherlock supported his head on John’s shoulder, which gave him a full length view of John’s body. He slid his hands down John’s chest slowly, making John relax his legs against his. Sherlock’s hands easily slipped their way down, caressing John’s thighs and resting there. John shuddered with arousal.

“John, just show me how you like it.”

John swallowed dry and blinked a few times before he grabbed Sherlock’s hand in his, entwining their fingers and led them to his cock. He carefully surrounded his shaft with their hands, keeping his own on Sherlock’s, and started to pump leisurely. He shivered at the touch, feeling a bit out of space. He focused on how well his cock fit in Sherlock’s hand and how his own hand was guiding their movements. John reveled in the feeling of Sherlock’s cock against the small of his back, and Sherlock’s breathe hitting his neck. He sped up their hands, moaning quietly and dropped his grip. Sherlock continued in the same pace, increasing his stroking progressively according to John’s moans. John dug his hands into Sherlock’s thighs and thrust his hips forward in Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock tightened his grip and John closed his eyes, trying to prolong his orgasm, but the memory of Sherlock’s cock dripping pre-cum got the best of him. His orgasm was almost upon him when he felt Sherlock’s thumb pressing against the top of his shaft and he groaned out loud, spilling himself in Sherlock’s hand.

They sat silently without moving for a few minutes, John recomposing himself with Sherlock nuzzling him, breathing calmly.

“We just had sex,” John said a little startled.

“There’s no need to state the obvious, John.”

“Jesus Christ, we had sex.”

“Yes, John, just shut up now,”

“This,” John said, disentangling himself from Sherlock and looking back at him, “The idea of us having sex disturbs you,” John said as he tugged his pants and trouser back up over his hip before standing up.

“No,” Sherlock said as he reached for his pants and put them on, “I just think it’s too much.”

John picked his t-shirt and jumper up from the floor and dressed up without saying anything.

“What, John? What did you expect? You can’t tell me you thought I was going to kiss you and make you a cup of tea and cuddle you to sleep.”

“Christ, you’re such an arsehole,” John mumbled and turned his back to Sherlock. Before he could leave Sherlock said:

“Yes, and you knew it.”

“Yes.” John said simply, turning back to face Sherlock.

“And you like it.” Sherlock said offering a smile.

“Yes.” John chuckled, looking at Sherlock.

“You like it as much as I liked hearing you moan.”

“Oh, God, shut up!” John said on a laugh. He felt the blush creeping up his neck at the sudden unexpected dirty talk, “Oh, Damn me,” John said playfully.

“Why?”

“Look what I got myself into!”

They stared at each other and laughed.

“Yes, I’m sorry, John, you’re doomed.”

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked this story? Try my other works:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyroutineat221B/works
> 
> Thank you.


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